Twycross
by sentinel28
Summary: The battle for Twycross is over.  What's two young people madly in love with each other and finally victorious over the Clans to do? Well, a party would be a good start. So would taking a big step forward in their relationship...
1. Pathfinder

_TWYCROSS_

_Chapter III of the Snowbird Saga_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Took me a while to track this down in the ether of my computer, but here's the next short story in the Snowbird story arc. This deals with the Federated Commonwealth counterattack on Twycross, and takes place roughly between Chapters 31 and 35 of Michael Stackpole's_Lethal Heritage. _Again, I've taken some liberties with canon Battletech history, but this story expands upon a few themes in Stackpole's book, as well as the old Classic Battletech _The Battle of Twycross_ campaign book._

_War movie aficionados should recognize a few of the lines in this chapter as being from the epic _A Bridge Too Far._I thought them rather appropriate._

_"__When you want to do battle, muster all your forces, not neglecting any of them: a battalion sometimes decides a battle."  
--Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington_

Black Pearl Base  
Sudeten, Tamar March, Federated Commonwealth  
28 August 3050

Morgan Hasek-Davion drummed his fingers on the desk, reading the report. He set it aside and looked up. Victor Steiner-Davion was fidgeting noticeably. "Victor, relax," Morgan said lightly. "The plan looks good. I told you so a month ago, and you've improved it since then."  
Victor blew out his breath. "Well, I did everything you asked…"  
"And more, Victor. You've incorporated all the data we've collated from both the Blackjack fiasco and the first battle on Twycross. The use of Lohengrin special forces teams to plant explosives at the Great Gash is an excellent idea." Morgan leaned back in his chair. "I'm just wondering about those pathfinders."  
"If the weather is as bad as they say it is on Twycross, Morgan, we're going to need pathfinders, otherwise our drops will get scattered hell to breakfast."  
Morgan nodded. "I realize that. It's not the pathfinders I'm questioning, it's who you've chosen to act as them."  
"The Sentinels?" Victor asked. "Cousin, they're a good unit, and they've got more experience fighting the Clans than anyone else we've tapped for this mission. I took a look at their personnel files, and the people I've chosen have fought on Persistence, Rasalhague, and/or Blackjack. They're solid."  
"I agree. With the exception of Sheila Arla-Vlata." Morgan held up his hand. "All right, Victor, don't start. I know she's your classmate and your friend. But she's also a loose cannon. She's gone rogue in every campaign she's fought in. Her CO ordered her to fall back on Persistence, but she refused. She went after a friend on Rasalhague and endangered other lives doing it. And on Blackjack, she insulted her superior officer and deliberately disobeyed an order. I read the court-martial transcript too, Victor. There may have been mitigating circumstances, but the fact remains that she disobeyed a legitimate order."  
"I know, Morgan. I'm not defending her for that. But on Persistence, her CO panicked and tried to abandon a good position, and on Rasalhague, she didn't ask anyone to do what she wasn't willing to do herself. She took on Elementals practically bare-handed, for heaven's sake. I think she's got potential, Morgan. For one thing, she's not afraid of the Clans. We've got mercenaries breaking contract rather than face the Jade Falcons. She'll never redeem herself if she doesn't get another chance. She knows what happened on Blackjack, and she feels pretty remorseful for it. I think she'll toe the line, Morgan."  
Morgan sighed. "You'd better be right, Victor. Because if Sheila screws up this time, she'll probably get killed, and she'll get a lot of other people killed in the process, including you. Can you handle that?"  
Victor nodded. He had already thought about it. "Yes."  
"All right. Plan approved. You lift from Sudeten in three days."

Sheila Arla-Vlata smoothed her fatigue pants for the fourth time since she had taken her seat in Black Pearl Base's largest auditorium. She sat in the front row, feeling decidedly out of place among the other MechWarriors there, who were all older than she was, wore the stripes of lance commanders, and did not bear the stigma of disgrace. Behind her sat sixteen other MechWarriors wearing Sentinel gray, and scattered representatives of the other units assigned to the Twycross operation: the 9th Federated Commonwealth RCT, the 10th Lyran Guards RCT, and the famous Kell Hounds. Compared to the four regiments of BattleMechs those units were bringing to the field, the Sentinels' contribution of twenty men and women seemed rather paltry.  
Caitlin Houndlikov took the stage at the head of the auditorium. She was Catherine Houndlikov's sister, but unlike the "Iceberg," Caitlin had a reputation for being a kind and gentle woman, especially famous for the impromptu concerts she gave to her company with her balalaika. She was one of the best scout commanders in the Sentinels, and her even-handed reputation made her a natural for coalition warfare, which the Twycross campaign would be. She held a laser pointer in her hands, and smiled at the assembly. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said clearly, "this is an operation you will tell your grandchildren about. And mightily bored they'll be." There was laughter at that; Caitlin had instantly captivated her audience. "Now your commanders have already outlined the Twycross operation for you; we're here today to discuss the Sentinels RCT's role in it. I've invited representatives from the other regiments to make sure that our plan meets with their approval—after all, they're depending on us."  
"You poor bastards," Marion Rhialla said loudly from the front row, starting more titters of laughter. Caitlin gave the older woman a mockingly stern stare, then nodded offstage. The lights dimmed, and a holomap was projected on the screen behind her.  
"This is the area of Twycross in which we hope to be fighting in. It's called the Plain of Curtains because of the way sand is constantly picked up and moved across it. The sand is thin enough not to interfere with magscan and infrared, though it will cause problems with vislight. So be careful. To the west are the Sharktooth Mountains, and to the east the Great Gash, which is, as the name suggests, a rather large dry canyon, bordered by the low ridges of the Windbreak Mountains. To the south, the ground slowly rises to the Hawkroost Hills.  
"Now the plan is that the 1st Kell Hounds will land on the Plain of Curtains, where they will meet the Jade Falcons more or less head-on. The 2nd Kell Hounds secure dropzones in the Hawkroost Hills, then will move into the Sharktooths, to support the left flank of their sister regiment. The right flank of the 1st rests on the Great Gash. Now here's the clincher: the 9th FC will land just in front of the Diabolis, which is a gigantic storm systems that meanders around Twycross. Once the Clanners are committed to taking on one of the Kell Hound regiments, the 9th, having marched under cover of the Diabolis, will attack out of the storm into the flank or rear of the Jade Falcons. The 10th Lyran will be in reserve.  
"Opposition is supposed to be light. The best intelligence we have is that the planet has a garrison of second-line 'Mechs—Star League designs and even a couple of older designs like what we pilot. So be careful who you shoot at. There's also a good possibility that the Clans might be using 'Mechs from the Trellshire Heavy Industries plant, which they captured intact. In any case, we expect to be facing a roughly regimental sized garrison, with probable battlearmor support. The good news is that the unit which took Twycross—the Falcon Guards—seem to have left the planet a few days ago. They're not expecting us, people. Any questions so far?"  
Marion Rhialla rose. She was one of the oldest MechWarriors present, well into her fifties, with a combat record stretching back well before the Fourth Succession War. She was a tough, no-nonsense type that still retained a price on her head from House Liao, whom she had defected from years before. "I have one," she said. "The Great Gash is an open avenue right into our rear areas. Is anyone covering it?"  
"Leftenant General Milstein plans on putting a company at the north entrance," Caitlin answered. "If the Clans move south, that company should give us a heads-up. Furthermore, a team of Lohengrin specforces are going to mine the walls of the Gash with explosives. If things go south, they'll blow the sides of the canyon and block it." Rhialla, satisfied, sat down.  
Seeing that there were no other questions, Caitlin moved on. "Right. This is our part in it, then. The Sentinels are to act as pathfinders. The weather on Twycross goes from moderately bad to utterly vicious, like in the Diabolis. The DropShips are going to need pinpoint guide beams to land, otherwise we're likely to get scattered all over the place. So the Sentinels will be going in an hour ahead of the other DropShips." Everyone shifted uncomfortably; that meant that for that hour, they would be alone on Twycross. "Our job is to place beacons for the DropShips of the other regiments to home in on. Each one of our 'Mechs will have a beacon attached to it. Once you reach the predesignated point, which will be fed into your battle computers prior to the drop, you simply throw a switch, and the beacon will detach itself from your 'Mech, plop down in the ground, and start transmitting. The reason why we're putting a beacon with every 'Mech is in case you get scattered…or if some of you don't make it to the dropzones. That shouldn't be a problem," Caitlin quickly assured them. "The Clan garrison is either at the Trellshire factory northwest of the Plain of Curtains, or in the capital city of Camora, which is northeast. We shouldn't have to deal with either one of them until the main force arrives."  
"They'll detect us coming," said Philip Scott, sitting next to Sheila.  
"True," Caitlin replied. "But they won't move until they're sure where we're going to land. Otherwise they risk uncovering either one of their bases." She returned her attention to the assembly. "Since there's four dropzones, we have four separate lances. These will be coded according to who's commanding them." As she went down the line of the front row, she pointed at each lance commander in turn.  
"Lance Commander Elfa Brownoak, your lance is called Elfa's Eyes." Elfa was a beautiful older woman a little over forty, who, unlike many MechWarriors, wore her blond hair very long, down to the small of her back. "You're covering DropZone Rei. This is the toughest one of all—the 9th FC's zone. It's closest to the possible garrison at Trellshire Heavy, and right in front of the Diabolis."  
"Oh, God, not us again," Elfa whispered. Her lance had gotten the dubious pleasure of being the Sentinels' pathfinder force on Rasalhague, and the rearguard on Persistence. Made up entirely of Land-Air 'Mechs, the only such force in the regiment, they were a perfect choice for the assignment, able to move positions extremely quickly. That was of little comfort to Elfa and her hybrid MechWarriors.  
"What was that, Elfa?" Caitlin grinned.  
"Happy to be of service," Elfa said with forced cheer, and the crowd laughed.  
"Lance Commander Philip Scott, your lance will be Philip's Perforators." Philip grinned; he was not much older than Sheila, and had been her defense counsel at her court-martial; he was a handsome man, also with blond hair, who had begun growing a goatee. "You've got an easy one—DropZone Asuka, the 10th Lyran's in the Hawkroost."  
"Cool," was Philip's only reply.  
"Major Marion Rhialla, your lance is the one you already have—Tigerstripe's Legionnaires. You've got DropZone Gendo, the 2nd Kell Hounds. Watch this one—it's got broken ground. I'm depending on you to find a better spot in case the estimate is wrong." Rhialla nodded sharply.  
Finally, Caitlin pointed at Sheila. "Sheila Arla-Vlata, you're being brevetted to Lance Commander for this operation. Your lance is codenamed Sheila's Snowbirds. You've got DropZone Shinji, the 1st Kell Hounds' in the Plain of Curtains. Should be an easy one, but watch the weather. Also, there's not a hell of a lot of places to hide on that plain, so don't go wandering off, okay?"  
Sheila's cheeks burned, but she nodded.  
"Right. Once you've placed the beacons, stay until you get a tightbeam acknowledgement from the DropShips, then hightail it for the Cloisters, which is a rock formation here." She pointed to the map. "That's the rally point. I'll meet you there with my command lance, and we'll stay in reserve with the 10th Lyran. Elfa, you move your arse ASAP, understand? Your LAMs can't take that much of a beating, and I'd hate to have to fly those damn things in a tornado." She looked around. "Questions? None? Capital. Brief your lances, and I'll meet you on the DropShip."


	2. Here They Come

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Welcome to Chapter Two! No 'Mech action in this chapter, but instead I'll serve up some _BattleSpace_ stuff._

_As always, good to get reviews. Bienvenido, good to hear from you again. Your wish is granted! RougeBaron, no LAMs this time out, but they actually play an albeit minor role in this story arc (and the next one). Since LAMs are no longer CBT canon, they get pretty short shrift in Battletech fiction, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. _

_The crew of the _Merkava_ should be familiar to MST3K fans, and if you're so inclined to listen to music while reading, I can't suggest anything better than "Ben Kenobi's Death/TIE Fighter Attack" from the _Star Wars: A New Hope_ soundtrack or "Klendathu Drop" from _Starship Troopers.

_This chapter is rated PG-13 for violence and mild sexual references. What, you thought that the last chapter of _Snowbird Summer_ was a throwaway?_

_"__No plan survives contact with the enemy."  
--Helmuth von Moltke_

_DropShip FCDS _Merkava_  
Inbound Twycross, Jade Falcon Occupation Zone  
10 September 3050_

Sheila felt the jolt as the DropShip hit the outer edges of Twycross' atmosphere. She zipped up her jumpsuit and headed out onto the bridge of the ship. As she entered the bridge, the captain turned in his chair and looked at her, grinning. He was tall and fairly young, his sandy hair cropped close, and wore the standard olive drab jumpsuit issued to AFFC personnel. "Morning, Lance Commander."  
Sheila smiled with a cheer she did not feel. It had been a week from the pirate point that the invasion force had arrived at to where they were today. Leftenant General John Milstein was in command of the huge invasion force along with Victor Steiner-Davion; both of them had expected a formal challenge from the Clan garrison. None had come, and the silence was ominous. Sheila herself had a sense of foreboding about the entire operation, a hollowness in the pit of her stomach. Getting up that morning, she had done something she had never done before: record a message to be given to her father back on Grunwald if she died. Sheila was under the increasing feeling that she would not survive Twycross, and it terrified her. It was all she could do to stay on her feet and keep her composure.  
Captain Michael Nelson misintepreted her paleness. "Don't worry, ma'am. We're not your usual DropShip crew, I know, but we'll see you to the ground."  
"Thank you, Captain. About how long?"  
"About another hour." He pointed out the bridge windows, over the bulbous nose of the Leopard-class DropShip. "There's Twycross. Not much to look at, is it?"  
Sheila stared at the planet. It now took up half the view outside, a rust-colored planet with no discernable color other than the wisps of white cloud in the upper atmosphere. She could make out mountain ranges, slightly darker than the rest of the planet, and thought she saw the wide scar of the Great Gash coming into view. Rolling over the horizon to the starboard side was the Diabolis, a reddish black swirl, malevolent and huge. Sheila saw forks of lightning amidst the black as tendrils from the cloud reached out over the surface of Twycross. Sheila thought the storm was beckoning her to come to the planet and her own death. She stepped back. "Ugly," she croaked out from a dry mouth.  
"Yeah," Nelson agreed, "but I've seen worse. Tom, you remember Chara III?"  
A red-haired man, so short Sheila had initially thought him a midget, laughed over his shoulder. "Now that is an ugly-ass planet."  
The bridge crew began debating which was the ugliest planet they had ever seen, and Sheila edged back a little more, more for privacy than fear. She wondered why she was feeling so scared. The trip into Rasalhague and Blackjack had been no more or less fearsome, and she had practically been bouncing off the walls on those rides, eager to get into battle. She did not think it had anything to do with her recent disgrace, and the heavy weight on her shoulders this time; that worried her, but not to this degree. It was just an overwhelming fear that her time was up, that her young life would be snuffed out on this ugly planet hurtling towards her. Sheila clapsed her arms around herself, trying not to let the fear show. _Oh God_, she thought, _I haven__'t done anything with my life. I haven't done __anything. _

She thought of Max. He was part of her lance; she had made sure of that, knowing her attention would be divided if he was not. She was beginning to wonder if that had been a wise idea, but he had as much experience as anyone else in the regiment, and Victor had tapped him for the mission with that in mind. Their relationship since that day of the rain on Grunwald had remained a pleasant diversion for both of them. During the day, they still carried on very professionally, maintaining the façade that they were nothing more than good friends. By night, however, they were passionate lovers, if one set of parents was not home—and given the reorganization that the Sentinels were undergoing, that was frequently the case. Both had gone to great lengths to keep their relationship a secret, and had so far been successful, though there had been a close call not long before they had left for Sudeten. Sheila's father tended to be rather loud, so there was always plenty of time to get decent before he came down to Sheila's room, but this time it had been her mother who had gotten home first. Arla was infantry, trained to be stealthy, and only after a stair had creaked did either Sheila or Max, who were just getting intertwined, realize that they were not alone. In record time, Max had dived to the floor and rolled under Sheila's bed, grabbing his clothes on the way, while Sheila had hastily grabbed a book and begun flipping pages. If Arla thought it unusual that her daughter had taken to reading in the nude, she had said nothing. The two women had chatted for nearly an hour before Arla had left, while Max sweated it out under the bed and prayed. The memory brought a brief smile to Sheila's face. The night before, she and Max had made love with animal intensity, as if by sheer violence alone they could stave off the next morning and the battle. Sheila's muscles ached, but more than the lovemaking, she remembered waking up in Max's arms, and the soft kiss they had shared as she headed back to her cabin. Just being around him was enough, and the thought that last night might have been the last night, period, filled her with poisonous dread.  
The dread coalesced into naked fear at the words of the astech sitting at the ship's sensor suite. "Captain Nelson, we've got company."  
Nelson instantly became all business. "What is it?"  
"Sir, I paint ten fighters coming up from Camora. Too far to get positive ID."  
"Hell, we know they're bandits. Com, send out a message to the fleet. Go to General Quarters and get some asses in the turrets; we may have to stand tall." He turned to Sheila. "Lance Commander, get your bunch to their 'Mechs. If things get bad, I may have to kick you out early."  
Sheila nodded, understanding. If the _Merkava_ took catastrophic damage, it was better to jettison the 'Mechs rather than have them stuck aboard a crashing DropShip, even if the MechWarriors' own survival was academic after jumping from a spinning, burning ship. She saluted Nelson, who returned it, and dashed down the ladder to the cavernous 'Mech bay.  
The _Leopard_-class, unlike the egg-shaped and larger _Union _and _Overlord_ classes, was designed to transport only a single lance of BattleMechs, and though its 'Mech bay was cramped compared to the other designs, it still dwarfed the four 'Mechs assembled there. Techs made final adjustments to the 'Mechs, while the _Merkava__'s_ crew dashed to battle stations. Sheila saw her lance waiting for her.  
Max was there, of course; their eyes found each other briefly, then Sheila looked away. She had to see to her lance; there was no time left now. She felt his understanding without knowing how she felt it. Besides Max, there was Kaatha and a young MechWarrior named Arthur Drax. Drax was thin to the point of near emaciation and towered over all of them on his spindly legs, even over Sheila and Max, both of whom were six feet tall. He had come at the suggestion of Michael Whelan, Sheila's replacement as the commander of 4th Company, Alpha Battalion, and had already gained a reputation for aggressiveness. "Okay," Sheila said breathlessly, "we may be going into a hot zone. We've got fighters inbound, so we're mounting up early. If the DropShip takes a bad hit, we may have to abandon. Hopefully we can stay together, but if not, make your way to the Kell Hounds' drop zone. Even if only one of us makes it, we have to set that beacon. Then head for the rally point. Avoid contact. You know the operation. If we make it down, we'll dustoff and secure the zone. Any questions?" There were none. Sheila felt a lump in her throat, not just for Max, but for all of them. Their lives might well depend on what she did in the next few hours. "All right, then. I'll see you on the ground. Mount up."  
All three of them came to attention and saluted her. Sheila solemnly returned it, then Kaatha and Drax dashed off to their 'Mechs on the other side of the DropShip. Sheila looked at Max. He opened his mouth, then closed it. There were no other words they could say, save the ones they wanted to say, but were afraid to. Sheila settled it by giving him a quick peck on the cheek, then, before he could see the tears on her face, headed for her 'Mech. Max watched her go, wiped away his own tears, and walked towards his own 'Mech. It was time to go to war.

* * *

Sheila quickly climbed up the rungs set into the _Shruiken__'s_ chest, climbed into the wolf's head cockpit, and closed the canopy. Her ears popped as the 'Mech pressurized, in case the DropShip was holed. Moving rapidly, she stripped off the jumpsuit and tossed it in a tiny locker set behind her seat. Underneath, she already wore the abbreviated uniform of a MechWarrior: cooling vest, kevlar shorts that ended above her knees, and knee-high thermal boots. She taped on the medical sensors to her thighs and arms, then plugged in the cooling vest, steeling herself. The coolant flowed into the tubes on the vest, the icy fluid momentarily seeping through the insulated underside of the vest, making it feel like a hundred cold worms were caressing her breasts. It was not arousing in the slightest; Sheila hated the feeling with a passion, one shared by most female MechWarriors she knew.  
Next, she pulled on the heavy neurohelmet and hooked it into the seat. A momentary wave of dizziness rolled over her as the 'Mech used her own sense of balance to steady itself. The lights in the cockpit were already on, and they dimmed for a moment as techs below her unhooked power leads. The _Shruiken _was now running solely on its own fusion engine. Sheila reached out and flipped a switch.  
"Identification," the computer's synthetic voice spoke. Sheila always thought it sounded a little like her mother.  
"Sheila Allegra Arla-Vlata."  
"Voiceprint pattern match obtained. Authorization code?"  
"'It is the spirit of the people who follow and of the person who leads that gains the victory,'" Sheila intoned. It was a quote from General George S. Patton, Jr., and Sheila used it to remind herself what her responsibilities were.  
"Authorization confirmed. Welcome aboard, Sheila. Let's go kick some Clanner ass." The words sounded strange coming from the computer, but they made Sheila feel better. Her 'Mech was named Clan Eater, and it seemed eager to get into the fight, even if she was not. The instrument panel came fully to life, giving her control of the 'Mech and its weapons. Looking out of the cockpit, she saw an astech beckoning to her with two yellow wands. She followed him into the drop bay. Ahead of her was a thickly armored door, the only thing between her and the hard vaccuum of space. The tech saluted as she assumed the drop position, and she raised the _Shruiken__'s _weapon arm in response. He stepped out of sight, and she heard another door rumble shut behind her, now protecting the DropShip in case the small bay was hit. She might die, but the _Merkava_ would survive.  
The DropShip shuddered, and Sheila instantly recognized that it was not the normal buffeting of atmosphere. The fighters had arrived.

* * *

"Raid count twenty fighters," said the astech on sensors. "Looks like we've got four heading for us."  
"Shit." Nelson could see four fiery specks heading for the _Merkava_. "Any idea what we're up against?" _Not that it matters_, he thought. The _Merkava_ would have to fight her way to the surface.  
"Two _Batus_ and two _Sullas_," Sensors replied. "Mediums, according to intel."  
"Radio for fighter support, Tom."  
"Already done, Skipper. Should be here anytime."  
The Clan fighter pilots were setting up for a head-on run at the DropShip, which was risky because of the massed firepower it could bear, but would be terrifying for the _Merkava__'s_ crew and might cause them to deviate from their course. However, Victor's planning had taken heavy fighter opposition into account, with the result that the AFFC fighters were already deployed. Two _Stukas_ came hurtling in at the quartet of Omnifighters. The two _Sullas_ broke off and headed towards the _Stukas_, leaving the _Batus_ to attack the _Merkava_.  
The Jade Falcon fighters were devilishly fast, and their lasers hammered at the DropShip's armor. They were past before the turrets were even able to get off a shot. Nelson gritted his teeth, but resolutely held his course. The _Merkava_ truly began to shake as it began hitting thicker atmosphere, the view from the bridge taking a reddish hue. Nelson hoped that the reentry might throw off the Clan fighters, which would be less stable than the DropShips, but it was a vain hope. One of the _Batus_ rolled upwards, leveled out, and made a run at the _Merkava_ from behind. The _Merkava__'s_ aft fixed guns fired off a few shots, but the Falcon pilot easily outmaneuvered them and returned the fire, sweeping past on the port side.  
The _Merkava_ groaned like a living thing as a Gauss rifle shot slammed into her drives. There was a sickening lurch and the ship began to shake as if it was palsied. The impact had caused the DropShip to dig her nose into the atmosphere. "Tom!" Nelson shouted. "Bring us up before we flip over!" The diminutive helmsman locked both elbows around the control wheel and pulled backwards, but the ship stubbornly refused to lift its nose. The navigator left her station and threw her own strength into the struggle, and finally the _Merkava_ resumed her course. The buffeting lessened.  
The second _Batu_ had made a loop and now came down at the DropShip from directly above, aiming his lasers for the bridge. This time, however, the dorsal turret gunner was ready. Servomotors whined as the turret traversed, and a cloud of LRMs rose up at the diving Omnifighter. The Falcon pilot evaded, but enough of the missiles hit to throw him off. He was hit again, this time by a PPC, and he swept past the starboard side only to be struck once more by yet more LRMs, this time from the starboard turret. The _Batu_ skidded, lost control, and seemed to bounce off of an invisible barrier as it struck Twycross' atmosphere. A wing separated from the doomed fighter, which exploded a moment later.  
The _Batu__'s_ wingman struck home with another Gauss shot, but he broke off the attack early, seeing his shot had done little to the DropShip's thick armor. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, the Omnifighter broke off to find easier prey.  
Nelson wiped sweat from his brow. "We okay?"  
The navigator checked her board. "All sections all green. Aft large laser is offline and we've got heavy armor damage bow and aft, but we should be all right."  
"Great. Thanks, Gyps. Tell the dirt-pounders that we'll drop them off in fifteen minutes." 


	3. First In, Last Out

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ _Here's Chapter Three. Building up slowly to the big 'Mech battle; just like the Army–hurry up and wait. More LAMs in this chapter as well; old-time Battletech fans will recognize the Crescent Hawk Company and Jason Youngblood!_

_Hauptmann Karl Jungblud also briefly appear in Michael Stackpole's _Lethal Heritage _and figure prominently in the last big scenario in the _Battle of Twycross _campaign book, as we'll see in the next chapter._

For Sheila, it was the longest stretch of time in her young life. Though it was cool in the cockpit of her 'Mech—nothing was generating heat—she was covered in sweat. The seat was soaked with it, and she could smell her own fear. Her hands shook on the joysticks, and her stomach felt like it had permanently contracted and frozen. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, and tears leaked out of the corners of her tightly shut eyes. Sheila knew she was going to die, sealed inside the steel tomb of her 'Mech and the DropShip. She had managed to keep from throwing up what little breakfast she had when the _Merkava _had taken its near fatal plunge, and was thankful that she had used the bathroom before she had gone to the 'Mech bay, otherwise her seat would be wet with more than sweat. Her heart felt like it would burst.  
"Snowbird One, this is Captain Nelson, come in!" The shout cut through Sheila's terror, and she opened her eyes.  
"This is Snowbird One, go ahead," she croaked out.  
"Just like you MechWarriors to sleep through all this," Nelson sighed. "Dustoff in five minutes. Get ready; I'm raising ship as soon as you're clear."  
"Roger, understood. Thank you, Captain."  
"Anytime, Lance Commander. Thanks for flying Merkava Airlines." The line clicked off and Sheila switched frequencies to her lance's. "Snowbird Lance from Snowbird. Stand by for dustoff. Clear the DZ as soon as you can." Sheila did not wait for an acknowledgement. She wiped her hands on her shorts, then checked her 'Mech for damage. Everything read perfect, and Sheila felt the knot in her stomach unwind a little. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.  
She was suddenly pressed back into her seat as the _Merkava_ fired the retrorockets in the flat bottom of the ship. The _Merkava_ decelerated rapidly, and Sheila felt the thump of the gigantic landing pads locking into place. There was another burst from the retros, and with a crunching sound, the _Merkava_ settled on the ground of Twycross.  
The steel doors rolled upwards, letting light into the bay. The canopy automatically polarized to protect Sheila from being blinded by the harsh sun of Twycross. "Go! Go! Go!" shouted Nelson, and Sheila leapt her 'Mech forward, taking a single step off of the leading edge extension of the DropShip's delta wing. A slight drop, and the _Shruiken_ landed on the planet's soil, heavy myomer muscles absorbing the shock. Sheila pushed her feet down on the pedals, and the 'Mech jogged away from the DropShip. When she felt she had gotten clear, she turned around. Her mouth curved into a smile as she saw Max's _Hatchetman_ slide off the DropShip's wing and quickly take up position to her side.  
The _Merkava_ seemed to kneel for a second, then rose up on silvery ion jets. Sheila saw the landing pads retract a moment before everything around her was obscured by the sand thrown up by the DropShip. The 'Mech was buffeted, but Sheila compensated. She looked above the dust cloud, and saw the _Merkava_ heading upwards, propelled by its huge engines.  
When the sand began to settle at least somewhat, she looked around for the rest of her lance. "Snowbird Lance, check in."  
"Two," Max said.  
"Three," Kaatha reported, quickly followed by Drax's "Four's up." Sheila sighed with relief as she saw Kaatha's _Griffin_ and Drax's _Phoenix Hawk _materialize out of the sand. All four of the 'Mechs had been stripped of paint rather than have Twycross do the job, and they still gleamed in the sunlight, though already the dust of the planet was beginning to stain them. Soon, Sheila guessed, the four would be colored the same dull drab as everything else on the planet.  
"Okay," Sheila said, "now that we're all together, let's keep it that way. These dust storms can kill visibility, so let's stay in close order. Drax, take the lead; we don't have much time. Max, you've got the rear."  
"Roger," both MechWarriors replied, and the lance turned in the direction of the Kell Hounds' dropzone. They kept to a quick jog; Sheila and Max were slower than either Kaatha or Drax, and no one wanted the lance to get strung out.  
Sheila took the time to look around a little. The Plain of Curtains was fairly level, with gently sloping hills. The rust-colored sand was not deep, but formed little dunes continually whipped by the constant wind. It was fairly clear, and Sheila could see blue sky above her, though it was mostly obscured by grayish-red clouds scudding across it. In the distance, she could see the hazy outlines of the Sharktooth Mountains, stabbing jaggedly upwards like their namesake. There were no landmarks she could see, but soon her computer chirped at her, letting Sheila know they had arrived at the dropzone. "We're here," Drax reported a second later.  
"Go ahead and set your marker, Four. I'll set mine next to yours in case it doesn't work."  
The _Phoenix Hawk _marched over to a spot, and Sheila had to laugh as Drax kicked the ground free of sand, like a batter clearing home base. He then bent down and opened his 'Mech's left hand, exposing the ball-shaped marker beacon. It dropped to the ground with an audible clunk, and rolled a little before coming to rest right side up, as it was designed to do. Sheila watched as a thin antenna extended outwards from the ball to a height of six feet, then it began emitting a blue, flashing light. She switched her radio to the beacon's frequency, and heard the steady beeping noise it emitted. She switched back. "Beacon's working," Sheila said. Just in case, she set hers next to the other one, though she more or less let it roll off the _Shruiken__'s_ hand.  
"Now what?" Drax said.  
"We wait," Sheila told him.  
The lance took up a loose formation around the beacon. Sheila ordered them to power down all nonessential systems; the last thing they needed was to be sending out electronic noise for the Clans to home in on. It also meant maintaining radio silence. After a few minutes of this oppressive silence, broken only by the howl of Twycross' wind, Sheila was surprised to find herself bored. The fear of the DropShip ride had abated, which confused her. She felt like she should be scared, especially stuck out on the open plain with no cover for kilometers. If anything larger than two or three OmniMechs showed up, her tiny command would be wiped out in a matter of minutes. She looked over at Max's _Hatchetman_, and wished she could see him, but the canopy on the _Hatchetman_ was too small. She risked a small wave with her _Shruiken__'s _hand, and grinned when she saw the _Hatchetman_ return the wave almost instantly. _So he__'s watching me, too_, she thought, and felt better. She turned the 'Mech's head to check on the rest of her lance. Kaatha had her PPC raised, occasionally changing position, and Sheila knew she was marking the terrain, estimating ranges. Drax's _Phoenix Hawk _was pacing around, looking for all the world like a man waiting for a late hoverbus.

Sheila was humming to herself, wishing she could open the canopy to air out her cockpit, when her headset crackled for her attention. There was too much interference from Twycross' whipping sand, so she turned up the gain. Finally the transmission came through. "Snowbird One, Snowbird One, this is Crescent Hawk One, come in."  
"Crescent Hawk, Snowbird. Receiving you five-square. We're at DropZone Shinji. Home in our beacon."  
"Roger that. DropShips have the beacon." There was a pause. "Snowbird, authenticate."  
Sheila quickly consulted a list of radio callsigns inserted into one of the clear thigh-pads of her shorts. "Authentication is Apple. Countersign?"  
"Cobbler. Tally-ho on the Snowbirds."  
Sheila hurriedly looked up. She could see the DropShips now, but they were still glints in the blue sky. Closer though, she saw ion jets, and four specks grew into the shapes of Land-Air 'Mechs. The Snowbirds watched the newcomers land; they were painted the deep red and black of the Kell Hounds, and, beside the fox's head patch of that regiment, they also wore an insignia of a screaming hawk against a crescent moon. _So that__'s how they could see us…deployed early_, Sheila thought.  
The LAMs shifted to their 'Mech mode, looking more like the machines Sheila was used to seeing. LAMs were oddities on any battlefield; never built in large numbers, LAMs were very valuable for their ability to act as both 'Mechs and aerofighters. While they did neither job well, they existed because they could do either at all. They were devilishly hard to maintain, but Sheila thought the Crescent Hawk lance looked like they had just marched off the production line. _Must be nice to have the Archon as your best friend_, Sheila inwardly sighed.  
The lead _Phoenix Hawk _marched up to her. "Good morning," its pilot radioed. "Jason Youngblood, Crescent Hawk Company, 1st Kell Hounds."  
"Hi," Sheila returned. "Sheila Arla-Vlata, Snowbirds Lance, Sentinels RCT."  
Through the canopy she could see Youngblood nod. "I know. Heard of you."  
"I imagine you have," Sheila replied guardedly.  
"I meant I heard you had the Star for Rasalhague. Your boys and girls have fought the Clans a couple of times, right?"  
"Yeah. So have yours, on Verthandi."  
"We weren't there, but we heard some horror stories. Are the Jade Falcons as bad as the Wolves?"  
"They're tough, but they're not ten feet tall."  
Youngblood laughed. "Roger that. Look, Snowbird, one of our DropShips took a bad hit on the way down and had to turn back. You mind heading out and securing our southern perimeter until we can get someone else out there?"  
"Not at all. It's on our way back anyway. Send me the coordinates." Youngblood tightbeamed the map coordinates over to Sheila, and she entered them into her 'Mech's navigation system. "Got it. We'll head out, then. See you again."  
"Keep your powder dry," Youngblood sent, waving. Sheila returned the wave, then ordered her lance to move out. As they walked south, Sheila told her lance what was going on. No one complained; the Snowbirds lance would have to head through that sector to return to the rally point at the Cloisters. It just meant a little more time in their 'Mechs, but given Twycross' less than balmy weather, none of the MechWarriors were in a hurry to go outside. Sheila brought up a rear view on a secondary monitor. She could see the Kell Hound DropShips coming in, both aerodyne ships like the _Merkava_ had been, and the more common "eggs" like the _Union_ and _Overlord_ classes. Fighters formed a protective cloud as the ships landed, obscuring the drop zone in gigantic clouds of dust. Sheila saw a section of four fighters come towards her, and felt the old infantryman's instinctive fear of anything with wings. These were friendly fighters, though, and as they roared overhead, they waggled their wings. The Sentinels waved back.  
A few minutes later, they reached the map coordinates. Sheila came to a halt, and again the Snowbirds took up a roughly circular formation. Sheila walked around the perimeter of the circle. Like the rest of the Plain of Curtains, the area was mostly flat, but it began rising into foothills only a half kilometer to the south. To the west, Sheila could hazily see jumbles of rocks, which her navcomputer told her was the western rim of the Great Gash. She was tempted to go take a look, but then decided against it. If the Sentinels would be on Twycross for any amount of time, she would get her chance to explore. As she looked north, she saw the black tendrils of the Diabolis beginning to creep over the mountains north of the Plain. Just above them, she saw the twinkle of sun on metal, and she punched up a magnification. At its highest power, she could just make out the shapes of DropShips, and knew it was the 9th Federated Commonwealth coming down. "God help you poor guys," she said sincerely. With a twinge of the fear she had felt in the DropShip, she thought about what the 9th's MechWarriors would be going through in the megacyclone they were dropping into. She returned to her patrol.  
"Snowbird One, Four," Drax radioed. "Ma'am, how long do we have to sit here?"  
"Just until the Kell Hounds send someone over to relieve us. They just grounded, so it shouldn't be too long. Why? You got a date?"  
"I wish," Drax said. "Nah. It's just that I'm a little hungry."  
Sheila's stomach rumbled, and she realized that she, too, could use a little to eat. It was understandable, since she had almost nothing for breakfast. "Should be some trail mix in the survival gear, if you're starving."  
"Hell, no. I'd eat my left foot before I'd eat that crap. Squirrel food."  
"I've got beef jerky over here," Kaatha broke in. "If one of you want to climb out and come on over, I'd be glad to share."  
A sudden gust of sand blew past the 'Mechs. "I'll wait, Three," Drax replied. "I'd probably get lost."  
"Suit yourself. Two, how about you?" There was no answer. "Two?" Kaatha repeated.  
"Two?" Sheila called out, concerned. Max's _Hatchetman_ was motionless, almost slumped over. "Snowbird Two, come in."  
Sheila felt panic rising, but finally Max came on line. "Sorry, people," he said. "I was having a little trouble."  
"You okay?"  
"Yeah, now I am. I was having a bit of trouble with the, er, relief tube."  
"You should have went before we left," Drax snickered. "I feel your pain, buddy. The damn thing is a bitch." Sheila could not resist a giggle. The relief tube in a BattleMech was usually positioned underneath the seat, and required almost completely unstrapping, reaching under the seat—not easy in the cramped cockpits of most 'Mechs—and bring the tube up into the proper position. Then one had to get into a proper position oneself, which was only slightly less difficult for men than women. All this had to be done when the 'Mech was stationary; trying to do it while moving was nearly impossible, and naturally in battle, or during a drop, completely out of the question. Most MechWarriors preferred simply opening a hatch during a break and finding a convienent tree, or, if they were in a hurry, simply going out the hatch. Kaatha proposed Max do exactly that.  
"No thanks," Max laughed. "I don't want to get it sandblasted off."  
"Oh, come on," Kaatha chided. "You don't have to be embarassed. I'm an old woman and I'm sure Sheila has seen all that before."  
Sheila instantly colored bright red. She and Max instantly had the same thought: _Oh shit. She knows_.  
Neither had time to retort, for Drax sang out, "'Mechs on scope, bearing one-seven-seven."  
The bantering instantly ceased. Sheila checked her radar, and saw blips enter her scope, coming towards her from the south. Without Sheila having to order them, the Snowbirds took up station in line formation, leveling their weapons. There was no cover for kilometers. Sheila watched the blips come closer, until her scope painted sixteen 'Mechs and four tanks approaching her position, at a fairly good clip. She relaxed a little; Clan 'Mechs traveled in groups of five and, so far, had not been seen using tanks. Nonetheless, none of the Snowbirds lowered their weapons until their sensors received a positive identification.  
The 'Mechs materialized out of the dust. "Halt!" Sheila called out. She could see the crest of the 10th Lyran Guards, but rules were rules. "Who goes there?"  
"Hauptmann Karl Jungblud," a German-accented voice came back. "3rd Battalion, 10th Lyran Guards."  
_Jungblud. And Captain Youngblood with the Hounds. Small galaxy_. "Lance Commander Sheila Arla-Vlata, Sentinels RCT. Advance and be recognized."  
Jungblud's _Battlemaster_ closed up towards Sheila. "Apple," he said.  
"Cobbler," Sheila replied. "Good to see you, Hauptmann. Everything in good shape back there?" Sheila motioned her 'Mech towards the hills behind Jungblud.  
"Got down fine, other than some Clan fighters. You'll excuse us, Lance Commander; we have a pass to secure."  
"Of course, sir. I'll let the Kell Hounds know you're coming."  
"Danke. Good hunting, Snowbird."  
"Enjoy yourself, sir." The Snowbirds parted to let the company march past, and Sheila contacted the nearest Kell Hound unit as Jungblud disappeared into the dust. Sheila whistled lowly, watching the Lyran 'Mechs—it was an assault company, with most of its 'Mechs over seventy tons. Two Behemoth tanks, little more than mobile pillboxes, and two Ontos tanks, with their fearsome octuplet of medium lasers, rumbled in the trail of the 'Mechs.  
The Kell Hounds company commander ordered Sheila to head off towards her rally point; the other unit was close enough to secure the southern perimeter. Sheila ordered her lance forward again. The terrain gradually rose as they headed south, then southwest, and soon they ran into the perimeter guard of the 10th Lyran Guards. After the usual greeting and exchange of passwords, the Sentinels were directed to Caitlin Houndlikov's headquarters. They found it in an area once completely devoid of human habitation, but now was dotted with DropShips like a sudden growth of steel mushrooms. Here the wind and the sand was not as bad as the Plain of Curtains, and Sheila powered down her 'Mech, climbing out to make her report.  
Caitlin Houndlikov was in a large tent, with landlines snaking out of it. She leaned back in a campaign chair, unconcernedly munching on bratwurst. Seeing Sheila, she got out of the chair and shook hands, then went back to her meal as Sheila made her report. There was not much to report.  
"Good job," Caitlin said. "Get some food into your MechWarriors. I don't think we're going to be doing much today, not with four regiments onplanet."  
"Suits me fine, ma'am," Sheila replied. "I've seen all the Falcons I want to see for awhile."  
Houndlikov nodded. "Me too, Sheila. They can let the House regs and the Kell Puppies earn their pay today." She washed down the bratwurst with a carton of milk. "Ugh. Beer would be better with this. Well, don't go too far."  
Sheila and her lance grabbed some food and took a corner of Houndlikov's tent. They were ignored by the techs running around on various tasks. Sheila caught bits of the battle as she ate: the 9th FC had successfully landed in the Diabolis, and a Clan force of Cluster strength had been spotted heading towards the Plain of Curtains.  
Elfa Brownoak came into the tent, looking tired. Sheila got up and waited until she made her report, then handed her a bottle of water. Elfa gratefully took it and drained a third of it. "So, how was it?" Sheila asked.  
Elfa regarded her and gave Sheila a tired smile. "A cast-iron bitch. Felt like Dorothy in that effing tornado. We didn't dare fly around or jump very far, because the damn wind would throw us around like a fracking rag doll. Mike Vragel tried it and I thought he was going to end up on the moon. Got the beacon placed, and be damned if the 9th FC didn't almost land on my head. That's got to be the first time I've ever almost been run over by a damn DropShip."  
"See any Clanners?"  
Elfa nodded. "Sure as hell did. From a distance, thank God. Almost thought they were the Puppies until Larry Stohr saw a _Fenris_. Looks like their garrison troopies use similar 'Mechs to ours, mostly. They look a bit different, but they're going to play hell identifying each other in that shit out there. Didn't see any Toads, though." Elfa took another long drink of water. "Next time someone gives me a job like that, I'm telling them to stuff it up their ass." The fact that Caitlin Houndlikov was clearly within earshot did not seem to bother Elfa in the least. "How 'bout you, Sheila?"  
"I haven't done anything but wander around making sure the Hounds got down and saying hello to Lyrans."  
"And you're complaining."  
"Not really, no. I'll be happy to sit out this campaign, Elfa."  
Caitlin walked over, a hastily scrawled message in her hand. "Think again, Sheila. I just got a message from the Prince himself. He wants you and your lance to report to him over at the Cloisters ASAP."  
Sheila rolled his eyes. "Oh, damn. He probably just wants to say hi."  
"I don't argue with the man who signs our paychecks, or his son at least, so mount up and get over there, Sheila." There was just the hint of displeasure at Sheila, and the younger woman got the hint. She saluted and collected her lance. The Snowbirds were no happier about it, but they left their lunch and walked out into the dusty air. Elfa tossed Sheila bottled water as she left the tent. "Sheila, be careful!" Elfa called out. "Their second-line 'Mechs are lighter than ours, but they still looked mean as hell!"  
"Thanks!" Sheila yelled back, then climbed up to the cockpit. In a minute, her _Shruiken_ headed out once more.


	4. Into the Storm

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ Chapter Four. Not as long as the last chapter (sorry, Bienviendo!) for dramatic purposes. I gotta keep you guys hooked somehow._

_RougeBaron: the Crescent Hawks were Lyrans, but they were also part of the Kell Hounds, according to _The Crescent Hawks' Revenge _(Youngblood gets a few of his missions, especially the final Luthien missions, from Morgan Kell) and the _Kell Hounds Sourcebook_ (which lists them as part of the Hounds after Morgan reforms the unit in 3028 as a full regiment)._

_This chapter takes place in the middle of Chapter 35 of Michael Stackpole's _Lethal Heritage, _just after Victor sends Kai to Deidre Lear's field hospital in the Great Gash, and just before General Milstein reports to Victor that the Falcon Guards have broken through._

The Cloisters were so named because they resembled a procession of monks. Victor Steiner-Davion—piloting, appropriately, a _Victor_—stood a distance away from the formation, next to a _Crusader_ that Sheila knew belonged to Victor's aide, Galen Cox. Normally, the Lyran 'Mechs would be wearing their blue-and-white national colors, even in battle, but here they had received a camouflage scheme of drab colors. Victor did not want to give the Clans any more advantages than they already had. "Alpha One, Snowbird One, reporting as ordered."  
The _Victor_ turned towards her, and Victor's voice came through, slightly distorted by static. The wind was picking up as the Diabolis closed on them. "Hi, Snowbird. Everything all right?"  
"Yes, sir. Caught me during lunch." Sheila let just a slight touch of irritation into her voice.  
"Sorry," Victor replied, sounding genuine at least. "I've got a job for you. I need you to head over to the northern end of the Great Gash and check on Jungblud's company. He should be all right, but we've lost contact with him because of the storm, and he reported a probe attack with Toads. The Kell Hounds were going to drop a lance back to take a look, but they've just gotten engaged with the Falcons, and I think Colonel Brahe is going to need all the 'Mechs he can. I've already sent Kai over to the southern end just in case the battlearmor breaks through Jungblud. We've got a field hospital there."  
Sheila looked past the _Victor _onto the Plain of Curtains. Already the lead elements of the Jade Falcons were exchanging fire with the Kell Hounds, but it looked like the Clanfolk were getting the worst of it. The thick, blowing sand was keeping the 'Mechs from engaging at long range, and the Kell Hounds had the advantage of numbers. The Clan commander was no fool and began withdrawing the skirmishing lead 'Mechs, forming up for a general assault. Sheila checked her map quickly and saw that her unit could make Jungblud's location fairly easily. One part of her wanted to refuse, to head back to the tent and relax, but Victor was right: the Sentinels were the reserve, and it said something for their friendship that he was willing to trust her, even after all that had happened. She could not let him down. "All right, Alpha. We'll head up the Gash and see what's going on—"  
"Snowbird, you can't go up the Gash," Victor interrupted. "We've got the walls mined with pentaglycerine. One wrong explosion and the whole thing will come crashing down on you. Stay away from the Gash if you can."  
"Well, I can't cut across the Plain, either." Sheila looked at her map. There was a narrow passage she could take between the Kell Hounds and the Gash. "I guess I can squeeze behind the Hounds."  
"That'll work. I'll tell them you're on the way. I've got Kai taking a look at the Gash from the south. Watch yourself, Sheila—the Diabolis will be moving in there, so I need you to get visual confirmation of Jungblud. As soon as you can, send me a message, and then hightail it back here. Attach yourself to the Hounds if you can't."  
"Yes, sir. On our way."  
"Good luck, Snowbird." Victor saluted her clearly through the canopy of his 'Mech, and Sheila returned it. Then she turned away and led her 'Mech down the hills towards the Plain of Curtains. Ahead, the Diabolis seemed to beckon them.

* * *

The Snowbirds began running into the broken ground that marked the beginning of the edge of the Great Gash. Ravines cut across the hard ground of the Plain of Curtains, forcing the lance to either go around them or go down and then out. Jumping them was out of the question; the wind was blasting its way across the plain as the Diabolis closed in. The Snowbirds stayed close together; the dust was making visual contact increasingly difficult, and sensors were never completely trustworthy. It was also for mutual support: except for the omnipresent howl of wind, it was distressingly quiet on the Plain. There were no sounds of battle, and even the radar was silent, clouded by windblown sand. It was as if the four 'Mechs were alone on Twycross. Above them, the sky had turned an evil black, adding to the trapped feeling.  
To Sheila's surprise, the fear she had experienced had not returned. Her hands gripped the joysticks tightly, but not in a death grip, and her stomach was as quiet as the sensors. The entire planet seemed to be bent on throwing her 'Mech over, but she fought it and was winning with every step. She was in control, and she led her lance. They trusted her, and she them, and Sheila knew she was exactly where she was meant to be in her life.  
"Charlie One, Snowbird One, come in," she radioed. There was no reply, although Jungblud should have been well within range. Sheila sighed. _It__'s the damn storm_, she told herself. She checked the sensor displays again, but except for the three 'Mechs at her back, it was clear. _Then again_, she mused, _with all this damn interference, there could be a frigging battalion out there and I wouldn__'t know it. _She wished she had a Beagle Probe on her 'Mech, then dismissed it: those emissions could be detected, and if she could not detect the Jade Falcons, there was a good chance they could not detect her, either.  
Her navcomputer abruptly beeped, startling her. She looked down. They were at Jungblud's rally point. She checked her sensors again, then looked around out of her wide canopy. What she could see through the swirls of sand was only barren ground. "Charlie One, Snowbird One, come in, please," she sent out again. She switched frequencies back to her lance. "Anyone pick up anything? See anything?"  
"Two's clear," Max said.  
"Same with me," Drax added.  
"Three?" Sheila asked. Kaatha's Griffin was bent over. The 'Mech's left hand scraped at a small sand dune, exposing something metallic. "Three, what did you find?"  
"An arm," Kaatha replied at last. She pulled it out of the sand. At first Sheila thought it was the distinctive claw of a _Marauder_, but it was too blocky. Sheila then recognized it. "Clan weapon pod," she said aloud. Sheila stepped closer, and saw that the end was blackened. The damage was recent.  
"Somebody was hit," Kaatha said.  
"Let's keep moving. Jungblud was a heavy unit. Unless he ran into something big, he's all right." Sheila had trouble believing the words she spoke, but there was truth in it. Even if Jungblud had been overrun, they would have heard something, or someone would have survived long enough to retreat. His company had orders not to fall back through the Gash unless it was absolutely necessary.  
"Snowbird One, this is Two," Max called out. "There's a destroyed Behemoth at your eleven." Sheila looked in that direction and saw the still-burning wreck. She almost sent out another message to Jungblud, but something stayed her hand over the radio button. Instead, she told Kaatha to watch the rear and sent Drax out slightly to her left, to watch that flank. Then she moved up next to Max. There was a small rise, and she nodded her 'Mech's head to him and pointed. Together, they moved slowly up the ridge. At first, they could see nothing but more sand. Then the wind abruptly shifted, giving Sheila a glimpse of what lay beyond in the opening of the Gash.  
The northern end of the Great Gash was quite wide; only gradually did the walls rise on either side. Rock formations stuck up at weird angles, and a dry riverbed wound its way up from the Gash at the bottom of the ridge Sheila stood on. On the twisted ground, however, was a charnel house. 'Mechs lay in heaps or singly, indicating where they had fell. Jungblud's command company was clustered at the other end of the shallow valley; his _Battlemaster_ lay face-down, a smoking crater in its back. In the quick glimpse Sheila got, she instantly deduced what had happened: an enemy force had hit Jungblud head-on, rapidly splitting the command lance away from the rest of the company and annilihating them. The survivors had tried to take the Jade Falcons in the right flank, but had run into a wall of fire that had cut them down en masse. A few had survived and tried to retreat up Sheila's ridge, but none had made it. If there were any survivors, Sheila did not see them. Then the wind died for a split second, and the veil of sand lifted further, like a curtain being drawn away from a stage. Sheila's mouth fell open at the sight beyond Jungblud's last stand.  
There had to be nearly fifty of them, she surmised, in one great trail, the head of which disappeared into the Great Gash. All were Clan OmniMechs; Sheila could see their distinctive profiles. Her sensors were now going insane, painting _Lokis, Ryokens, Pumas, Ullers_, and the odd _Masakari_ or _Thor_. Elemental battlesuits danced around the 'Mechs like pilot fish around sharks. Emblazoned on each was the image of a swooping black falcon clutching a sword, at a different angle than the jade falcon that also was painted on each 'Mech and battlesuit. Sheila's mind quickly ran through the briefing she had read on the way to Twycross, one provided at great cost by the survivors of the Twycross militia.  
It was the Falcon Guards.  
"Holy Mother of God," Max said over the open channel.  
"Max, get the hell back!" she yelled. Without thinking, she turned the _Shruiken__'s_ head southwest, punching buttons to boost the gain on the antennae set into the 'Mech's earlike communication suite. Another button switched it to widebeam broadcast, which would be picked up by the Kell Hounds' DropShips, two dozen kilometers distant. "Hound One, Hound One, Snowbird One," she radioed. "Clan OmniMechs and Elementals at northern end of Great Gash. Repeat, Clan OmniMechs and Elementals at northern end of Great Gash. They're moving south through the Gash, repeat, through the Gash. Regimental strength; appears to be the Falcon Guards. Jungblud's company destroyed." She glanced at her code pad. "Authentication is Zero Foxtrot."  
Max was moving back, off the ridge. "Sheila, we've got Clanners coming right at us!"  
"Snowbird under attack. Will transmit if able. Snowbird out." Sheila swiped the radio frequency back to her lance's and looked down. As she had known, every Clan 'Mech within line of sight had heard that message, and she had sent it in the clear. Unless by some chance the Falcon Guards did not speak English, they knew there was an Inner Sphere force on their flank; the Guards' commander had begun to deal with it. A _Mad Cat, Ryoken, Puma, Vulture_, and a _Thor_ had detached themselves from the main group and were racing towards the Snowbirds. Sheila quickly turned and ran down the opposite side of the ridge. "Snowbirds, we've got Omnis crawling up our ass! Retreat southwest!" Already Kaatha and Drax were heading that way, but Sheila knew that she and Max did not have much of a chance. They were slower than every one of the pursuing OmniMechs.  
Sheila made her decision. She halted, turned, and began sighting on the first Falcon to come over the ridge, a _Ryoken_. "Sheila, what are you doing?" Max screamed.  
"Buying time," she said, amazed at the calm in her voice. If she delayed the pursuit Star long enough, either Kaatha or Drax would get to the Kell Hounds, and would deliver the message in case the widebeam broadcast had not gotten through. She had no illusions about how the battle would turn out, but she planned on taking as many Clanfolk with her as she could. Someone would regret coming to battle today.  
Her fingers were tightening on the trigger when she heard a roar over the wind. The _Ryoken_ staggered as armor was blasted from its leg. She looked to her right as Max brought up his _Hatchetman_. Tears welled up and spilled down her face. The words were on her lips, but she could not bring herself to say them. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Jade Falcons top the ridge.  
And at that moment, with a fury unmatched by anything man could ever make, the Diabolis was upon them. 


	5. Blind Man's Bluff

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Chapter Five. A little longer this time. Readers will figure out where this chapter belongs in _Lethal Heritage,_ so no problem there. Besides, I don't want to give too much away. _

_A few brief notes: the Ishiiyama Open refers to the Kurita arena on Solaris VII; I'm pretty sure I stole the line it's used in from one of Stackpole's other books. I don't think he cares too much. Todd Burdock is a character played by a friend of mine, so he's not canon. Star Captain Lefar is, however: in the _Twycross_ campaign book, it is mentioned that she is the senior surviving officer of the Falcon Guards. How she survived is never mentioned, so I ran with it. (Longtime _Battletech_ aficonados will know of one other survivor: Joanna, Aidan Pryde's falconer and nemesis. However, Joanna wasn't taken prisoner on Twycross, which meant that she probably crawled out on the opposite side of the Great Gash from Sheila Arla-Vlata and Lefar.)_

_As always, enjoy..._

Max reflexively brought his hand up to cover his face, then realized what he was doing and fought to keep the _Hatchetman_ upright. At that moment, four ruby bolts sizzled from the storm and blasted armor from his torso and right arm. Max felt the 'Mech going over and held on. The _Hatchetman_, with a groan, fell over into the sand. To Max's horror, the wild ride did not stop: the Hatchetman slid backwards and crashed down into a ravine. Max's helmet and seat straps saved him from injury, but he still felt like his bones had been smashed into confetti.  
He shook his head free of the cobwebs and looked out the now-starred viewslit of his 'Mech. All he could see was red sand. His monitors flickered and then came back online. He scanned them for damage; the right side of his 'Mech had taken the worst of it, but no internal damage was reported. Another secondary monitor told him there was nothing behind him, at least as far as the computer could detect. Max levered the _Hatchetman_ back to its feet and slowly climbed out of the shallow ravine. A quick check of the sensors told him nothing: his radar was hopelessly jammed by the roaring sand. Magscan was worse: Twycross' sand was so rich in iron that it effectively jammed it. Max switched to infrared. That was somewhat better, but there were enough heat shadows around that it was going to be hard to tell. The only upside was that the Clanfolk's sensors were probably in the same shape. It was going to be a game of blind man's bluff, where the losers died.  
"I've got to find Sheila," he said aloud, feeling very alone. All of the Clan 'Mechs except the _Puma_ outweighed him, and most likely the _Puma _could outgun him as well. The smart thing to do would be to retreat and pray the Falcons did not find him, but Max was beyond that point.  
The Diabolis shrieked like a living thing, shaking his 'Mech and blasting sand into his windscreen. Abruptly, his sensors detected something; Max whirled in that direction and nearly fired his autocannon, but it was only a rock outcropping. He moved forward at a half-walk, constantly searching for either friend or foe. Twice more he thought he saw something at the edge of his sensor range or in the corner of his eye, but when he turned, it was either gone or was a dervish of sand, playing tricks on him.  
There was another beep from his targeting system, and this time Max thought he saw a flash of blue light. "A PPC?" he asked himself. Something muffled came through the moan of the wind, and Max wondered if it had been an explosion of some kind. It could not be a 'Mech blowing up, he knew, since that would produce a lot of heat and light, even through the dull red of the Diabolis. His infrared showed a heat trail, rapidly being blown away by the wind, and Max headed in that direction. His navigation system still worked, and it told him he was heading away from the Great Gash.  
Once more, his sensors told him something was ahead, and this time Max spotted something man-made. Though they were being rapidly covered in sand, there were burned armor plates on the ground, and triple-toed footprints leading into the storm. Max ran through a mental checklist of the 'Mechs in Snowbird Lance, but none save his own had a footprint resembling that. He was relatively sure he was not wandering in circles, so that had to be enemy. Carefully, Max stalked the target. Now infrared was definitely picking up something, and it was moving. The sandstorm cleared slightly for a second, and Max saw the distinctive hunched-over form of the _Ryoken_, the 'Mech that he had shot at earlier. It was heading away, apparently oblivious to the fact he was there. He trailed the _Ryoken_ for a few more moments, hoping for a better shot; once he locked his targeting computer, the Clan pilot would know it instantly, alerted by his own instruments. Finally, Max felt he was as close as he dared. The _Ryoken_ was a blur in front of him, still walking, its torso moving from side to side as its MechWarrior scanned for targets. Max locked on, aiming for the _Ryoken__'s_ back, and cut loose with two medium lasers and the autocannon.  
His autocannon left smoking craters in the back of the _Ryoken_, while the red laser beams carved a double rent, melting armor away and cutting into the interior of the 'Mech. The Clan 'Mech was in mid-turn when it suddenly began jerking spasmodically, and Max saw an explosion blast its way out of both sides of the 'Mech. Its arm spun away crazily. "Son of a bitch!" Max breathed. "I hit the bastard's ammo!"  
Such a hit would have finished most Inner Sphere 'Mechs instantly, but the _Ryoken_ stayed on unsteady feet, its pilot trying to pirouette and bring the other arm's lasers to bear. Max never gave him the opportunity. Already running forward when he opened fire, Max brought up the _Hatchetman__'s_ namesake and buried it just under the jutting missile rack, between where the 'Mech's shoulder blades would have been had it had any. What little armor was left quickly crumpled, and Max saw the hatchet blade hit something with a shower of sparks. The Ryoken dropped to the sand like an unstrung puppet. Max prepared to finish it off, but the _Ryoken_ was still, only feebly moving. Max recognized the damage: he had smashed the _Ryoken__'s_ gyro. It was not dead per se, but might as well be. He grinned savagely. "That's for Jungblud, you prick." He walked backward, once more clouding his 'Mech in the storm. "Not bad, not bad," he said to himself. "Took out an Omni. I wonder if I can pull that trick twice?"  
Max was just wondering how he could sucker another Jade Falcon into an ambush when he abruptly realized that, while he had been hunting the _Ryoken_, someone else had been hunting him. The laser bolts came out of nowhere. The bolts concentrated on his right leg, burning away the armor, then the myomers, then the ferro-aluminum bone itself. His hasty return fire went wide as the _Hatchetman_ once more crashed down.  
Max rolled with the fall, hearing more armor scraping off, but propped himself up as best he could. A shadow loomed out of the sandstorm, and he fired at it. Sparks showed he had hit, but another fusillade of lasers blasted him to the ground again. Alarms were warbling all over his 'Mech, warning of armor breaches in his right arm and torso; his autocannon was fused into junk. Slowly, he tried propping himself up, using the hatchet as leverage, but his assailant walked towards him. Max's mouth went dry: as on Blackjack, it was a _Mad Cat_, but this time there was no one to help him or anywhere to run to. The _Mad Cat_, pitted and scarred by sand and burned with a few laser and shell hits, stood over his prone 'Mech like an executioner readying for the final slice. Max saw the laser arms track around and aim directly at his head.  
Suddenly a voice blasted into his helmet: "MAX! ROLL BACKWARDS!" The tone was so strident that he did not question: he threw his _Hatchetman_ onto its back, away from the _Mad Cat_.  
There was a thunderous crash and bone-chilling shriek of metal on metal, and the ground actually shook around Max. Even the wind seemed to temporarily cease its howling over the din. Then all was quiet again, except for the squeal of what sounded to Max like a tortured actuator.  
He rose up as best he could. Less than two meters from his 'Mech's left arm was the _Mad Cat_, lying ridiculously spreadeagled in the sand. One missile launcher hung askew and a shoulder looked badly smashed, but it was the 'Mech's bulbous torso that had taken the worst of it. A gigantic dent began at the middle of it and carried forward to the cockpit, which had every piece of its plexiglass shattered. Already sand was beginning to sift into it. There was not even a hint of movement.  
Max saw another form come into view, and the voice crackled into his ears again. "Max? Are you okay?"  
"Sheila?" He was grinning stupidly, knew it, and didn't care. "Is that you?"  
"In the slightly bruised flesh." The _Shruiken_ marched into view, and Max could see the cracks in Sheila's leg armor; the 'Mech limped noticeably. "Is the _Cat_ dead?"  
"I think so. I don't see anyone moving." He looked up; through the blowing sand, he could see Sheila in her cockpit. "What in God's name did you hit him with? You got an AC/20 in there I didn't know about?"  
"I sort of hit him...with my 'Mech."  
"That was some punch—" Then the truth dawned on Max. "Holy SHIT! You DFA'ed him?"  
"Yeah, and it wasn't easy," Sheila said, still breathing hard. DFA stood for Death From Above, the last resort of a jump-capable 'Mech. It was an all-or-nothing attack that involved a 'Mech jumping high above another, then coming down directly on top of the opponent, feet first. It rarely was successful, requiring not only a steady hand at the controls; usually the MechWarrior being jumped on shot back, along with every one of his friends within range, which nearly always threw off the attacker. When it was successful, the damage it caused, especially if done by a heavy or assault 'Mech, was devastating. Often the victim's head would be crushed, as it had been in this case. Sheila was surprised it had worked; she had been following the twin footprints of the _Hatchetman_ and the _Ryoken_, and had seen the _Mad Cat _knock Max down. Knowing she had to stop the Jade Falcon warrior as quickly as possible—since the _Mad Cat _was quite capable of finishing off Max and then Sheila in succession—she had jumped, the wind behind her, and prayed that a gust would not throw her to the unyielding earth in mid-leap. The Jade Falcon had never known what had struck him. Sheila had been unable to keep her own 'Mech from hitting the ground, but she had rolled with it.  
"You're crazy!" Max shouted.  
"Not so loud…my ears are still ringing. And my nose is bleeding, too." She crouched next to his _Hatchetman_. "I'll help you hobble, if you can. It looks like you lost the leg below the knee. We're not out of the woods yet. There's other Clanners out here."  
"I got the _Ryoken_." Max told her, then blurted, "Sheila, I love you."  
"Don't say things you'll regret later."  
"I mean it." He helped her as best he could, and somehow the both of them got the _Hatchetman_ leaning against the _Shruiken_. He carefully wrapped his left arm around her 'Mech, and they began slowly limping south, Sheila half-carrying the _Hatchetman_.  
For awhile there was silence. Then Max heard what sounded like crying. "Sheila, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"  
"No," she said softly. "I'm just scared…"  
Max let out a tired laugh. "I'm scared too, babe. We're not much of a fighting pair."  
"It's not that…oh, God. I have to say it." There was a pause. "Max…I love you too."  
It was all that Max could do to keep his 'Mech on its feet. He had expected it, but the words still hit him like an autocannon blast.  
Then there was a sound much greater than any autocannon blast. Twycross itself seemed to rise up beneath them, then convulse. Both BattleMechs fell in a heap, and everything went black.

* * *

Sheila clawed her way back to consciousness. She hung forward in the straps, and she noticed blood splattered all over her thighs. For a wild moment she thought she had lost her legs, but then reason returned, and she realized it was blood from her nose, which still trickled. She painfully reached over and stanched her nosebleed with an already bloodied piece of cloth, then checked her 'Mech's condition. Everything was still green, though the computer showed she had lost more armor from her limbs. Though it was painful to move--the seat straps had dug cruelly into her skin—she got her _Shruiken_ back on its feet. "Max?" She was still too stunned to use callsigns. "Max, come in. Are you all right?"  
She saw the Hatchetman stir slightly. "Ugh…" Max groaned over the channel. "Yeah, I'm okay. Feel like I just went through the Ishiiyama Open without a 'Mech, though. What was that?"  
"I don't know." The Diabolis had slackened slightly as it moved southwest, and Sheila could see more than a few meters. There was a pall of black smoke and sand that covered the eastern horizon, and Sheila knew that the smoke was man-made. "Something's happened over at the Great Gash." Then realization hit her. "They must have blown the Gash!"  
"Felt like they blew the whole damn planet," Max said. "Help me up and we'll go look."  
"No, Max. Stay down and play dead. I'll go over and check things out; if there's Clanners over there, I'll need all the mobility I can get."  
"Roger," Max replied, though he was clearly not happy about the idea.  
Sheila ran up to full speed and moved quickly to the east. As she went, she could see fissures in the ground that had not been there before, when the Snowbirds had moved over the area on their way to the north end of the Gash. She slowed down, not wanting to blunder into a Clan ambush or fall through a weak spot in the ground. At last she reached what had been the west rim of the Great Gash.  
The Gash's outline was still there, and about ten meters of a rim still dropped away from the lip Sheila stood on. From there on, however, it was gone. Huge slabs of black rock, each weighing as much or more than a DropShip, had slid into the Gash and were stacked haphazardly like jagged roof tiles. Boulders half the size of her 'Mech were scattered about the wreckage. Here and there an arm or a piece of a leg jutted out from between a slab or a boulder, and black smoke curled out from under the rocks, marking where a BattleMech had once stood. A thick cloak of black dust hung in the air, blown by the wind, giving the Falcon Guards' grave a surrealistic look. Sheila could not speak, the devastation simply too awesome for words.  
Out of the corner of one eye she detected movement. The sand hid the movement again, but she switched to infrared and saw the image of a man, walking along the rim. She turned her 'Mech and walked towards the shape. Magnifying the visible image, she saw the man was wearing a Lyran infantry uniform. He apparently spotted her 'Mech at about the same time, for he threw himself to the ground and rapidly began covering himself in sand, to hide.  
She carefully walked forward and switched on her external speakers. "Hold on there! I'm friendly! Inner Sphere 'Mech!" The thought that she was advertising her presence to the area crossed her mind, but she dismissed it, unable to believe that anything Clan still lived in the Gash. The man stopped and stood, raising his hands in surrender anyway. She drew closer and slightly bent the _Shruiken_ to confirm his identity. Then she extended her 'Mech's hand. "Hop on, soldier. I'll give you a lift." The man cocked his head to one side for a second, then gave her a thumbs-up. He climbed onto the hand, and Sheila carefully moved it to shoulder level. She reached behind her and opened the side hatch. Instantly sand whistled into the cockpit, but the Lyran soldier climbed in quickly and shut the hatch behind him. He was average height, and might have had brown hair, but his face was red and scarred from the sand, which coated him from head to toe. Sheila wrinkled her nose and the smell, but the man's open gratitude was obvious. He stuck out a filthy hand. "Todd Burdock, 10th Lyran Guards. Am I glad to see you!"  
Sheila shook the hand. "Sheila Arla-Vlata, Sentinels RCT. What the hell you doing out here…" She looked at the rank on his shoulders. "Sergeant?"  
"Huh? Sorry, ma'am, you'll have to speak louder. I can't hear too well." He pointed to his ears. "The blast, y'know?"  
"I said, my name is Sheila Arla-Vlata, with the Sentinels! What the hell are you doing out here?" Sheila yelled.  
Burdock folded down the jumpseat set into the side of the cockpit and crammed his frame into it; the_ Shruiken_ was not built for comfort. "I was with Detloff's Company. We got hit by Clan Elementals half an hour ago. Got the Leftenant right off the bat. They overran us pretty quick, but they missed me in the confusion. I climbed out of the Gash and was running south when the blast went off. Threw me into a sand dune. Probably saved my life." Sheila nodded; the concussion would have been absorbed by the dune. "Do you have any water?"  
Sheila handed him Elfa's water bottle. Burdock drank half of it in a single gulp, then handed it back. "Ah, thank God. And thank you, Miss Arla-Vlata. I'd kiss you, but you've probably got a guy somewhere who'd be pissed off if I did that." He grinned, white teeth stark against the red dust. "Sorry. I'm still a bit shell-shocked and just damn happy to be alive."  
"I understand, Sergeant," Sheila said loudly. "Let me get back to my rally point and then we'll all head back to the barn." If it's still there, Sheila added to herself. The Falcon Guards were gone, but there was no telling what kind of damage the other Clan units had done. _Geez, not Blackjack again! _  
Sheila walked down the length of the Gash a little further. The devastation was just as bad there. She was just about to turn around to head back to Max when the sensors beeped for her attention. There was something emitting more heat than the ground just ahead. She moved her 'Mech forward, bringing her weapons up. Then she lowered her arm, spotting what it was.  
A _Loki_ had either managed to partially jump clear of the Gash, or had been bodily thrown there. Its legs were crushed underneath a slab or rock, and both limbs were missing. The torso lay in a heap on the ground. Sheila zoomed in for a better look, and saw a MechWarrior sitting in the lee of the torso. "Looks like someone survived," Burdock said over her shoulder.  
"Apparently so," Sheila said softly.  
"Sorry?"  
"Nothing." Sheila entered the coordinates of the downed 'Mech in her computer. If the MechWarrior was still alive, search and rescue teams could find the site later, if the Federated Commonwealth won. Sheila was torn by curiousity; except for the Elementals she had duelled at all too close range, she had no idea what the invaders looked like. Sheila wanted to see them up close, to look into their eyes and take their measure.  
Her sensors beeped again, and this time Sheila spun around the _Shruiken_ quickly. "What is it?" Burdock said, barely keeping his balance in the swaying cockpit.  
"Company!" she shouted. "Strap yourself in, Sarge—this may get rough!" One part of her mind told her that, if they did have to fight, Burdock would probably pass out from the heat or even die from it, but then Sheila shut him out of her mind. There was nothing she could do about it. She tensed up, ready to jump back into the holocaust of the Gash; there were two 'Mechs on scope, and she was not sure she could take two Clan 'Mechs. Then she let out her breath in relief: her sensors painted them as friendly. Even so, she did not lower her twin PPCs until the two 'Mechs came into sight. "Well, I'll be screwed and tattooed!" Sheila exclaimed happily. "Kaatha! Art!"  
"Well met, Lance Commander!" Kaatha said. Her _Griffin_ was pitted and scarred, and Drax's _Phoenix Hawk _was missing its left arm. "Sorry we took so long to find you. Maneuvering in that sandstorm wasn't easy."  
"What happened to your arm, Drax?" Sheila asked.  
"Kaatha bit me in the excitement."  
"Smartass. What happened?"  
"We found a flanker lance from the Kell Hounds, gave them a quick report, then came back to find you. Damned if we didn't run into a _Puma_ that was wandering around. Bastard put up a fight, but we got him."  
"Good job. Look, we need to find Max. I had to leave him over at—  
"Relax, Sheila," Max's voice came over the radio. "I'm riding shotgun with Kaatha." She saw movement in the bowl-shaped canopy of the _Griffin_. "Speaking of which, is there someone with you in there?"  
"I picked up a wandering Lyran sergeant from the 10th. Wave, Sergeant Burdock."  
"What?" Burdock asked.  
"I said wave!" Sheila yelled. Burdock obdiently waved.  
"Geez, Sheila, calm down," Max said. "I'm not jealous or anything—"  
"He can't hear too well," Sheila explained.  
"I can't hear too well!" Burdock shouted almost at the same time. Sheila winced.  
"Heard you both the first time," Kaatha replied. The _Griffin_ repositioned slightly, and Sheila saw the pistol-like PPC raise a little. "Hello…seems we have a prisoner."  
"Kaatha, take up overwatch. Drax, watch the prisoner. Sergeant Burdock and I are going to see who this person is." Sheila knelt the _Shruiken_. It made sense that Burdock, the infantryman, would be better qualified to take a prisoner, but Sheila knew she should stay in her 'Mech. Her curiousity, however, was too much. She had to see. She could feel Max's eyes on her the whole time.  
They climbed out of the 'Mech. The Diabolis had mostly passed, but Sheila was still glad of the neurohelmet, which kept her face clear of sand. It still stung painfully on her exposed skin, though Twycross was a warm planet. She dogged the hatch shut. She pointed to the pistol Burdock still wore, then to the fallen OmniMech. Burdock understood, drew the heavy Sternsnacht, and clambered down first. Sheila followed, wishing she had a gun as well. She pulled a knife from her boot; it was better than nothing. They walked over as stealthfully as they could; Sheila could see Drax keeping the large laser pointed at the other side of the _Loki_, though his _Phoenix Hawk__'s _head moved slowly from side to side, watching the area. Burdock jumped over the shattered remnants of the _Loki__'s_ searchlight. "Freeze your ass, Clanner!" he shouted over the wind. Sheila went around and approached the MechWarrior.  
Sheila saw they need not have worried. The Clan MechWarrior was wounded, holding a clumsily bandaged arm, and obviously in shock. She wore an outfit similar to Sheila's, though the cooling vest was larger and incorporated several devices on a belt, and pants covered her legs. Sheila somehow expected someone hideous looking, a barbarian wearing skins or with skulls hanging off their belt, but this young woman was actually rather attractive, her black hair trimmed short, though her features were pinched from the pain. Sheila read something in her dark eyes, and was mildly surprised to see fear.  
Sheila flipped up the visor on her neurohelmet and put the knife back in her boot. She reached out a hand to the Clanswoman, not seeing the enemy any longer, but another human being. "Take it easy," Sheila said. "We won't hurt you, unless you make us." The woman nodded, and Sheila saw her eyes flick to the water bottle Sheila had thrust into a clip on her shorts. "Do you want some water?" It occurred to Sheila that perhaps the woman did not speak English, so she repeated, "_Wasser? Mizu_?"  
"Water," the woman croaked, and Sheila handed her the bottle. The woman hesitantly took it, then drank.  
Sheila knelt down in front of her. Burdock moved closer, though he kept the pistol raised and out of the woman's reach. "What's your name?" Sheila said.  
"My name is Lefar," the Clanswoman replied in a raspy voice. "Star Captain of the Falcon Guards, Clan Jade Falcon." The woman sat down heavily. "Though it seems, not for any longer, quiaff?"  
Sheila had no idea what quiaff meant, and shrugged. "Fortunes of war, Star Captain Lefar. I'm afraid you're our prisoner."  
Lefar looked up at Sheila, anger on her face, but then the anger faded, and she looked away, sighing. "You are correct. What is your name?"  
"Sheila Arla-Vlata. I'm a Lance Commander of the Sentinels Regimental Combat Team. This is Sergeant Todd Burdock of the 10th Lyran Guards."  
"Ah, the Lyran Guards. So I am a bondswoman of House Steiner?"  
"Steiner-Davion," Burdock replied. He handed the pistol to Sheila. "Let's look at that arm, Star Captain." Lefar put up no resistance as he peeled back the bandage. The wound was serious, but not life-threatening.  
"Sheila, we've got inbounds," Kaatha's voice crackled in her helmet. "They're airborne, but very low and slow. It's too windy for VTOLs, so I'm thinking it's LAMs."  
"Stay loose just in case." Sheila thought about sprinting for her 'Mech, then decided that, by the time she got there, it would be too late. "Star Captain Lefar. Does your Clan use LAMs?"  
Lefar was still too much in shock to lie. "What are LAMs?"  
"I guess not."  
Kaatha's assessment was confirmed a few minutes later when a quartet of LAMs bearing the black and red of the Kell Hounds alighted next to them. Their armor was shot up, but not terribly badly, and Sheila could still see the Crescent Hawk symbol emblazoned on it. The _Phoenix Hawk LAM__'s _canopy popped open, and a MechWarrior climbed down a rope ladder. He jogged over to Sheila. "Lance Commander Arla-Vlata?" he asked, opening his visor.  
"That's me. Major Youngblood?"  
He nodded. "We got your report from your lancemates. The Colonel sent us back here to take a look at the Gash, and we figured we'd check on you guys as well."  
"We're alive." Sheila thumbed over her shoulder. "Got a prisoner as well. Star Captain out of the Falcon Guards."  
"Son of a bitch." Youngblood took a long look at Lefar. "You're right, Arla-Vlata—looks like they're not ten feet tall. I'd say she's five-seven if she's an inch. Not half bad looking, come to think of it." He saw the wound and nodded. "And they bleed red. So they are human."  
"Their MechWarriors are, at least. I can't say as I'm ready to drink with them yet, though." Sheila shrugged again. "Assuming, of course, that we're not the Star Captain's prisoners now."  
Youngblood's handsome face split into a grin. "Hell no, Lance Commander. We won. We held the garrison unit by the nose and Victor Steiner-Davion kicked them in the ass. The remnants are retreating back towards Camora, but the 9th FC's all over them. We won, Lance Commander—Twycross is ours!"  
Sheila could think of nothing to say but, "Well. How about that?" She radioed her lance. "Hey, Snowbirds. We can put a big number one in the win column."  
The cheers were answer enough for her._  
_


	6. Indecent Proposal

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ah, the last chapter of this story arc. Hope this has whetted your appetite for 'Mech action. Now for a little romance._

_This chapter is rated R for sexual overtones. Hey, Max and Sheila are crazy about each other, and they've just survived a desperate battle, and won it. What do you _think_ they'd do?_

_Camora Spaceport Hotel  
Twycross, Tamar March, Federated Commonwealth  
10 September 3050_

Outside, in the still badly-damaged streets of Camora, people were still celebrating, although it was nearing three in the morning and some of the MechWarriors had been up for over twenty-four hours. Drinking and eating had begun at top speed as soon as the victorious Federated Commonwealth forces had entered Camora, and the grateful city had thrown open its shops. Not all the MechWarriors were celebrating, of course—the 9th FC was still mopping up in the Sharktooth Mountains, but nearly all the surviving Jade Falcons had surrendered, most after blowing up their own 'Mechs. Other MechWarriors, especially from the 10th Lyran Guards, were quietly nursing their drinks, remembering dead friends. Casualties had been far lighter than projections, but that was of little comfort to husbands, wives, sons, and daughters of those who had fallen. Of Jungblud's company, no one had survived. There was also the thought among the AFFC high command that, having won back Twycross, they would have to hold it, and there was no guarantee that would happen.  
But that was for the next day. For that night, there was celebration. Informal dances were held, the Jade Falcons were damned several dozen times, and MechWarriors and tankmen threw beer on each other merrily. For some couples—together before the battle or suddenly thrust into each others' arms by war and alcohol—there was an ultimate way to celebrate life and victory.  
Sheila Arla-Vlata and Max Canis-Vlata were busy celebrating in such a fashion. Outside, two very drunk MechWarriors from the Kell Hounds were launching flares, but on the tenth floor of the Camora Spaceport Hotel, the noise bothered the young lovers very little. They had started with a toast in champagne, ceremoniously tossed the glasses out the window, and, since both were coated in a fine sheen of dust, had decided that it would be best to save water and shower together. They had made their way to the bed once they felt they were clean enough. Now they were covered in a sheen of sweat, and the windows were fogged by heavy breathing.  
Max somehow found the strength to reach for the two bottles of water he had thoughtfully placed on the nightstand before they had headed to the shower. He handed one to Sheila. "Ah, thanks," she said, and took a long drink.  
"Isn't it amazing the dry mouth you get from making love?" he grinned at her.  
"Oh, I don't know…all that panting, it's only natural." Sheila set her bottle aside and snuggled up to Max. "So, tell me…what does it feel like to be one of the winners?"  
"Pretty damn good. Almost as good as what we just did." He leaned down and kissed her nose. "Almost."  
"That's the right answer, Max." She sighed. "It was luck, though."  
"How so?"  
"If Kai hadn't did what he did, we might be in a Jade Falcon jail cell right now. Or retreating offworld, again." Neither wanted to mention the third option. "Victor should give him a planet to play with after today. Blowing your own reactor after challenging the Falcon Guards head on. Can you believe that? With balls like that, how can Kai walk?"  
"I hear he's thinking about resigning," Max said.  
She looked up at him. "You're kidding. Why?"  
"From what I overheard at Victor's command tent, he thinks he got Burdock's bunch killed. He sent them back up the Gash to get the magcard for the explosives."  
"Oh, bullshit. He had to do that."  
He faced her. "Would you have?"  
Sheila raised up on one elbow, idly playing with Max's chest hair. "Yes," she replied at length. "I wouldn't have liked it, but it was necessary. It's what Robert E. Lee called the great trap, Max."  
"Lee? I remember him from Ancient Military History."  
"Yes. He said that to be a soldier you have to love the army."  
"Makes sense."  
"But to be a commander, you have to be willing to destroy that which you love. Sometimes that means even destroying yourself—which is why I turned back today, Max. One of us had to get that message through to the Kell Hounds. I know now that they picked up my broadcast, but I had no way of knowing that then. You should have kept going." She kissed his shoulder. "Though I'm glad you stayed."  
Max hugged her. "You know, we've been sitting here discussing Kai's courage—a damn strange conversation to be having with a naked girl, by the way—but not yours. You pulled off a DFA in the middle of a windstorm. Art Drax thinks I'm lying."  
"I had to do it. You're my lancemate. I'd do it for any Sentinel…I'd like to think so, anyway."  
"Was that the only reason?"  
She pulled out of his embrace for a moment, leaning up against the backboard. "You know it isn't. You know damn good and well that I love you."  
Max nodded. "So when did we fall in love, Sheila? Here I was, thinking that we were having fun, playing around…and next thing you know, here we are. I don't know what to do. I love you too, Sheila. That wasn't a 'thank God we're alive, I love you man' answer. I love you, Sheila."  
Sheila smiled, her eyes shining. "Gee…I don't know what to do next, either. I think in the romance holos I've seen, this is where the hero—that's you—sweeps the girl off her feet and the camera pans away as they head to the bedroom." Her smile turned into a playful grin. "Well, unless you count the Immortal Warrior. I think he lays the girl in the back seat of his BattleMech."  
"Well, my 'Mech is salvage and you can't cuss a cat in yours, it's so small, so I guess we're stuck with this damn bed."  
Sheila at once leaped over and straddled Max like a lioness on a kill. She rested her chin on his. "This changes things, you know. It's not just slap and tickle anymore."  
"I know."  
She leaned backwards. "Well? What are you waiting for, Maximillian Todd Canis-Vlata?"  
He knew what she meant, or thought he did, and grabbed her slim waist. "Whatever do you mean, Sheila Allegra Arla-Vlata?" he teased.  
"Ask me to marry you, of course."  
Max's eyes widened and he nearly spilled both of them over the bed. Luckily Sheila had strong thighs. She laughed. "Wasn't what you thought I'd say, was it!"  
Max seized her shoulders, only half in jest. "Sheila, that's not something to joke about."  
"So who's joking, you big dumb male! Oh, I know we're not in some posh restaurant, we don't have a ring, and you're not on your knees—though we can arrange that last part." She leaned down and kissed him. Her eyes were still misty, and her lips trembled. "Max, I'm sorry I sprung it on you like that, but it's what I really want. We might as well; you 'know' me every way including in the biblical sense. We're distantly related, but we're not cousins. This isn't the Periphery, you know. And we're at war. We might not live out this year. I can handle dying, Max, but not without having lived. That's why I was so terrified in the DropShip this morning."  
"Okay, but what if we do live, Sheila? I don't want to get married just because you think we're going to be killed."  
"I agree. Let's get married because we love each other. There's no one else in the Inner Sphere that can put up with me the way that you do, Max."  
"Not even Tooriu?" Max had to ask. He was not jealous of Sheila's first lover, but he had to know.  
"Definitely not Tooriu. He's a great guy, and a good friend, but he would never be around for very long."  
Max looked at the ceiling. He had to admit that he had given the matter some thought before Twycross. He loved Sheila, and had for some time. He tried to think of living his life with someone else. He couldn't. All he ever wanted was right in front of him.  
Max abruptly rolled, tossing a surprised Sheila to the bed. He stood up, back to her, waited just long enough to bother her, then spun on one heel and dropped to a knee. "Sheila, will you marry me, and grow old with me?"  
Sheila was grinning, which made the tears on her cheeks incongrous. She nodded. "Yes, Max. I'll marry you and chase you around the Old MechWarrior's Home with my walker."  
At that moment, the drunk Kell Hounds, having found an SRM launcher, fired it vertically in the air. The missiles detonated somewhere above the hotel, to raucous cheers, unmindful of the shrapnel that clattered to the ground. Sheila dropped to the bed, instinctively seeking cover. Then, overcome with the hiliarity of it all, and their feelings, she and Max burst into laughter. "Thank heaven it wasn't an Inferno round!" she cackled.  
"Blaze of glory and all that!" Max laughed.  
"Yeah, but not yet!" She rolled over and stretched out on the bed. "Right. Stand at attention, MechWarrior!" Max blushed, but stood. "Your orders, Lance Commander?"  
"Make love to me. Now!"  
"Yes, ma'am!"  
The clouds had cleared over Twycross, and everyone thought the stars were particularly bright.


End file.
